The entire India was reeling last month around the same time under the pain of death and protest marches denouncing crime against women. There were candle light marches, slogans, hunger strikes, etc. throughout the nation. The case of Delhi gang-rape was not an isolated case and we all know in the heart of our hearts that there are different types of ‘crime’ against women. Beginning with discrimination by grandmothers against grand-daughters or daughter-in-laws about food and provisions, to not letting women contest college and local council elections, to high stress levels in working Indian women who have to balance home and world, to sexual infringements within family, India has witnessed the worst forms of crime against women. The problem with many Indians is we tend to elevate the status of people and things so much that while we are ready to ‘worship’ women, we are not ready to take them as just another human being.

Saying all this, I do not intend to simplify the complexity of the issues at hand or be reductionist in my approach to socio-cultural dynamics of India. I am shaken by the strange approach of our responsible sections of society: media, politics, and people. A pattern that one gets to see is that there is a strong sensationalism that we tend to follow and live-in. The sensation and ‘Breaking News‘ syndrome that leads us to follow for some days the hulla generated by the horrors of such news, but then it gets lost forever in the mass amnesia, and “today’s newspaper becomes tomorrow’s wastepaper”. As common masses affected daily by these set of violence, we do not encourage the idea of sustaining our protests in the form of debates.

In this article, I am verbatim reproducing two set of dialogues that we had on my Facebook page on mindsets related to women. I thought that my larger audience might like to read and participate in the discussion that followed on a status which I posted on Facebook. The people in the dialogue are not from the imaginary/ fictional space. They are real individuals, from across different sections of society, responsible for their statements and opinions.

In the wake of these dialogues, I am bound to reveal the identity of Anne de Plume because of the need of this article as well as to respect the identity of peers whose names are being mentioned here. My name is Arnapurna Rath — I teach engineering students and a few research scholars about the joys of being humane (I am one of the participants in this dialogue). As Anne de Plume (I consider her as my alter ego) I have met you, shared my personal and public anguish/ concerns since 2008. Coming from the academic community, my sense of responsibility towards both male and female students has often stopped me from making remarks with biases towards any one gender. However, the context of this article comes from a discussion with some women students who once casually reported that sometimes college elections across India are so gender biased that if a woman wants to contest even as elementary a position as a class representative, some of their male counterparts state that “they would rather go for a creepy, lazy male to take-up the position than be ruled by a woman”.

Here goes the status and the responses that I posted on the social networking site:

A little disturbed today by a strange comment.Sometimes there is such a strong break between ideals and practice. The paradox is some people project high ideals and low action, while some are high on action and low on ideals.Do we ever get a seamless bonding between the two? A strange revelation from some friends: there are some students who while voting say that we will not vote for a woman because we do not want to be ruled by women. Are these the same people who are taught the fundamentals of technology, humanities, sciences by women faculty? Is this 21st century?Are we the same people who do candle light marches for social upliftment? Clean-up your home first before you go and clean the society!

Sushant Sharma: one word “hypocrites”

Arnapurna Rath: Sushant Sharma: As the head of 1500 researchers at one point what was your experience? Is this a fact or fiction?

Shalu Shalo: Given a choice, these specific “type” of people would not want to be taught by female faculty either. Its sad, but their choices of who should/not be a supervisor/superior (in business/life) perpetrate vertically. They do not enjoy the fact of working for female bosses/supervisors; would not want women leaders; an independent and strong-willed female family member (sister/mother/girlfriend/wife); strong female co-workers/subordinates…just to name a few. The reason goes back to the morals taught/practiced at home followed by the society, media and the other whole nine-yards which help bolstering such egotistical attitude. I don’t think these “type” volunteer anything remotely meant for female-upliftment et al. This lack of tolerance solely starts at home and inflates exponentially as they go out in a male-dominated society. I am not a feminist, but I sure do hate discrimination of “any kind”. All these statements are from my own personal and professional observations

Sushant Sharma: it is difficult to answer… capturing true thoughts/beliefs are near impossible, one can only judge by actions…moreover the sample size you mentioned will be biased to come up with generic answer… more likely higher-education/social-status does not necessarily mean any improvement in right beliefs….however i know sometime thoughts/beliefs evolve it just needs a spark to make people contemplate and comprehend the facts ….and at this moment i feel we are still far from being a gender neutral and civilized society ..

Arnapurna Rath: Shalu shalo what scares me is that it is not about one ‘type’. There are multiple variations of this type. You are right — some might be thinking they do not want a woman to teach them! We are thinking of social changes while grooming people who refuse to be groomed. No doubt there are 5 media incited protests and then the country forgets. ·

Arnapurna Rath: Mathai: It is not just about Phds. There are many sides of the story. Possibly even in girls colleges! The range might vary from 16yrs–96 yrs.

Akshay Bishnoi: Ma’am….I will prefer to explain it from Psychological perspective…..Ideals (Value) are ambiguous most of times and Compliance on people by Social desirability and without rational…and Practice (Action) is affected by both Values and Circumstances and more rational in approach…. So while reading humanities people express or create those ideal (Value) only because of Social pressure or getting marks…So if they behave in a different way, it is can be considered as failure of Education system…Or in other terms it signifies how important it is to have democratic environment to be followed in true sense in society which may lead to acceptance of values in better way and action will also be on same line as of values…..

Mathai Fenn: We live in a country where men and women are treated separately. I remember when I was in college there were very different rules for the men’s hostel and the women’s. While we had a fairly liberal hostel the women had early evening curfews and the like. In fact almost all colleges have different rules for men and women hostels. HOW is it in your college? The interesting thing is when I asked an inmate (pun intended) she told me that it women needed more protection than men……( “from themselves”…..I completed, under my breath)

In how many Indian families do girls get as much freedom as boys do? For that matter the West is not THAT different on the matter either. LAST QUESTION: How many women feel incomplete without a man to “COMPLETE THEM?” lets face it men and women are not treated equally by their parents, their schools and colleges, society at large, or even themselves. Let us not get carried away with thoughts of freedom, etc. Erich Fromm, in his book title “ESCAPE FROM FREEDOM” suggests freedom is the ONE THING that we do not want! AFTER ALL THIS, you are complaining that men do not want to be ruled by women? I think its understandable, women cannot rule themselves!Idealism is good for blogs. Reality is different. Believe me……I’ve been there, done that!

Shaoni Shabnam: I guess teachers and parents have a critical role to play!!

Arnapurna Rath: Well Akshay Bishnoi what you say is very true. That is what I was indicating the gap between ideals and action. My question is can we help? Is there a solution to issues of the kind rather than explanations and debates?

Arnapurna Rath: Mathai Fenn I am complaining because the illusions and the idealisms are created by people like you and me. Let us admit that women are the greatest perpetrators of subversive violence against their own sex. My concern is about a strong break between reality and theory. Let us not get into one anothers gender bashing. If mindsets do not change than as a part of academic community I also equally take the responsibility of failing to get across the ideals that we have been trained to believe on.’

Mathai Fenn: Yes very much you can help. Please launch courses that sensitize students to gender issues. Help them understand. But dont make it simplistic. Also help them to critically analyze their own situation

Shalu Shalo: @akshay bishnoi: as much as I want to agree, I must disagree with the decree that “women cannot rule themselves”…etc etc… Age old rules of women’s role in society and homes have been brain washed onto men n women. This brain washing psychologically stifles the capacities to break old borders and create new ones. Keeping a few lazy women aside (who want everything handed to them in their lives), I believe that most women (yes, I speak for myself and women in my family and friends) want to break free and want freedom from caustic old and rusted belief system. Again, it’s the belief system and attitude that has to change…at home and then it will slowly trickle into the society.

Mathai Fenn: Does that mean you are complete even without a man?

Akshay Bishnoi : Ma’am…Mathai sir already answered it very well, how to tackle such issue, perhaps the most practical approach……In short Internalization of values by people is only solution….Debates also help in awareness, perhaps debates are the places where a person starts to think about issues, the first and most important step for change…Isn’t it??? But they can be internalized better when some real life examples follow them….And we need to take things in every aspect of life rather than only classroom teachings for e.g. we can have plays where role playing of the girl by a boy for some time, so that it may give him better perception how it feels to be like a girl (Empathy development)……

Shalu Shalo @mathai fenn…if you are asking me, then here is my take on the question…”when was I incomplete”? I was born alone, took all the challenges so far by myself, and technically we fight our battles alone . Unless otherwise brain-washed over n over again, no one is incomplete. Now, feeling the need to have a man to complete oneself should not automatically discounted to be a symbol of weakness or lack of confidence. Companionship means different thing to different people .

Akshay Bishnoi: Shalu Shalo: Man and women complete each other is correct….It should not be seen as sign of weakness….But when dependence crosses limit, what should we call it ???……Just a simple thought how much Indian women prefer to have their own identity??? Identity based on their own skills, achievements rather than Kids and husband?? We may have few ladies who have identity of self…But when i Look to Indian masses “Learned helplessness” is inserted in a girl from the very day she was born and accepted by most of us…Perhaps we are brought in such a manner that Such issues are made Sacro Scent to us and we never question them…..So providing a more thought provoking and Democratic parenting, Schooling and Societal environment to child is best way……..

Akshay Bishnoi: Shalu Shalo: Just one more thought about “Age old rules”….Well, If we reinterpret those rules by studying original text or most closely available ones….They are good rules with Some specified intentions which were used by Society people in wrong notions as time passed and no body questioned them….Just for example In my childhood days, everybody told me Speak Truth but no one told Why I should???….I saw most of people surrounding me telling a lie even the teacher and parents who taught me to say truth..Am i expected to say truth is such situation….Perhaps we forget the fact that A child learns more by Observing surrounding than Reading books…

Shalu Shalo: Well, new age issues need creative and new age solutions. In all my comments, I always mentioned the need for change in attitude. We are talking about old age belief systems which are hardwired across generations and cross sections. Such things cripple new age progress. It will be challenging as it involves changing both women’s attitude AND men’s attitude. A tough battle, but not an impossible one.

Arnapurna Rath: Thanks all for sharing my concerns and anguish. The length of the comments speak about your involvement with the issue. I have a feeling that diluting everything to psycho-sexual behaviour is not leading us anywhere. Introducing courses and seminars have also not been as fruitful as they should be — Akshay Bishnoi’s statement kind of proves that. We do courses for grades and marks these days, not to end up learning. In my opinion, post classroom debates, informals, debating clubs, etc can play an important role, and most importantly girls themselves should be responsible to establish their own identity in whatever possible ways they can. Men can be great supports and fabulous comrades too, but playing a second fiddle to someone is not a great idea. If personal anecdotes can help — during a particular PG cult at my home institution, I needed a projector to be setup on the SAC for my PPT on ad-making and someone from the council shouted down at me very rudely. I had a steely reply: “You see I usually get things that I want, either you help me or else I will help my self to get what I want” . We got what we wanted! And others who followed also got the projector for the next set of events. Did not intend to boast — even if one woman is inspired, I would consider victory.

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The debate generated an interest which was followed up in the psychologist Mathai Fenn’s status update. I am sharing that dialogue too:

Mathai Fenn’s facebook status: A friend of mine, Arnapurna Rath, complained that she knew some men who do not want to work under a female boss. She found it disturbing that men could think that way. Once upon a time I did too… but no longer..and HERE IS MY ANSWER….Mathai Fenn: We live in a country where men and women are treated seperately. I remember when I was in college there were very different rules for the men’s hostel and the women’s. While we had a fairly liberal hostel the women had early evening curfews and the like. In fact almost all colleges have different rules for men and women hostels. HOW is it in your college? The interesting thing is when I asked an inmate (pun intended) she told me that it women needed more protection than men……( “from themselves”…..I completed, under my breath)
In how many Indian families do girls get as much freedom as boys do? For that matter the West is not THAT different on the matter either. LAST QUESTION: How many women feel incomplete without a man to “COMPLETE THEM?” lets face it men and women are not treated equally by their parents, their schools and colleges, society at large, or even themselves. Let us not get carried away with thoughts of freedom, etc. Erich Fromm, in his book title “ESCAPE FROM FREEDOM” suggests freedom is the ONE THING that we do not want!
AFTER ALL THIS, you are complaining that men do not want to be ruled by women? I think its understandable, women cannot rule themselves!
Idealism is good for blogs. Reality is different. Believe me……I’ve been there, done that!

Samresh Kumar: I hope you look at the reality as it is, understand it and yet hope that someday the ideal thing will happen!

Mohit Kishore: Assuming as you say that women don’t want the freedom/liberation/authority, how does that link up to men not wanting to report to the ones who do have the freedom or liberation or whatever. I think the bit about not wanting to report to women is more linked to men who are used to withholding women’s liberties in other aspects of life and find it hard to get used to a professional / workplace scenario where they no longer have that control.

Mathai Fenn: I have no doubt. My intention was to show that these attitudes run deep and we can find it in our own institutions and families

Arnapurna Rath: Mathai Fenn people feeling complete or incomplete without each other is a part of biological and emotional preference related orientation. But gender competition and dominance is a part of cultural evolution. Thinking of August Strindbergs play Father.

Mathai Fenn: Ah biological evolution makes a woman feel incomplete without a man. Despite this if a man FEELS superior he can’t use the same logic. Obviously saucer for goose and gander are different

Pravin Noronha: Equality is a myth, be it gender or socio-economic status, but fairness is what we should call for.

Arnapurna Rath: No Mathai Fenn the feeling of incompleteness is mutual. You are leaving out preferences which may not include man-woman equation.

Mathai Fenn: Ok time to bring out the not-so-nice guy. I have had more WOMEN tell me that they feel incomplete than MEN do.

Arguments:1. Men and women feel it but its not cool for men to say it 2. Women feel it because they are victims of a male dominated society

Arnapurna Rath Loved that one — cultural stereotyping as I said!! Men are taught ‘not to be emotional’ and girls are known to be expressive and chatty!

Mathai Fenn That is the key to such arguments. It uses the argument either way to support your POV. I am sorry, but I genuinely don’t buy the argument that women feeling incomplete is BIOLOGICAL

Arnapurna Rath: I think we both are arguing the same point through two different ideological frames. I told that in my other comment too that it is not completely psycho-sexual behaviour. We live through multiple layers of complexity in the society. Some of them are yet to be understood and tapped. Mathai Fenn: I am publishing this entire conversation on my blog as it is, with the permission of the concerned people. I hope no one has reservations?

Mathai Fenn: I reserve rights to 30% of the advertising revenue that you get from the traffic to your blog for six months from the date of publication!

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I have specific reasons to publish this dialogue. In India, these days, we are mostly following the debates that are being raised by media and social networking sites. We tend to show reactions to a set of actions generated on television or cinema. They are great starters in my opinion. However, we would perhaps help generate a more responsible and socially sensitive set of people if one-to-one debates are encouraged either on social sites or as a part of informal grooming sessions or classrooms and canteens. If gender sensitivity is such a tough idea to introduce in a tough-nut patriarchal society, the reformists can start from primary schools and classrooms.

We have battles to choose — which one is our prerogative and priority! What do you all say?

Nobody ever loses their memory. It gets locked away like a madwoman in the attic. Occasionally you hear her scream, but you don’t unlock the door and have a look. Right?
There’s a great sadness in your life. (Sandra Gilbert and Susan Gubar, Madwoman in the Attic)

This summer my search for articles for Iris, led me to many unsaid aspects of life.

Have you heard of the name Ahilya? Those of you who are aware of Hindu mythology and stories of Ramayana will recall that Ahilya was the beautiful wife of sage Gautama. She was transformed into a stone by a curse of Gautama because of the debauchery of Indra the king of gods. Ahilya was freed from her stone form when Rama touched her with his foot.

I had heard this story as a child from my grandma and she used to narrate to me the story with so much religious fervor that at the very moment in the narration when Rama set his foot into the Gautama ashram , I used to clap and jump with joy.

However, that was childhood. Growing up, I hardly gave the story a thought, and I am sure even if I would have given it a thought it would mostly be cynical questioning the intention of all these men who could transform a woman into stone and human being alternatively at their own pleasure, just because they had the power to do so.

However, Ahilya the name came back to me in the flash of a moment in a strange way.

There is a Devi temple around 56kms away from Bhubaneswar towards Berhampore (south Odisha), called Ugratara. The temple is an ancient one and one has to go a few kilometers away from NH-43 in order to reach the shrine.

One afternoon we just decided to drive to the temple for the sake of a long drive. The heat in Odisha exceeds forty degree scale and humidity added to it makes life unbearable. Sitting in air conditioned cars and going for long drives are no great adventures or achievement in such a context. Anyway, we reached the temple around 4.00-4.30 pm with the extremity of the heat waiting to greet us the moment we stepped out of the car.

Bare-footed I ran across from the car to one of the shady corridors of the temple. I was angry about the selection of the time and the place for this drive and was muttering something against the travel in anger, when a lady came and stood before me with a large cane basket of red hibiscus flowers (supposedly a favourite of Devi) and some bilva leaves with her betel-nut stained teeth opening into a large smile. She was short, dark in complexion, with tattered saree, a large Kumkum on the forehead and a dab of rubbed-off kajal in the eyes. Irritated with the intrusion and the heat, I said “na! na! darkar nahin, ja tume” (not needed, you go from here). She must be in her early forties, not for a second perturbed by my angry resistance to her red hibiscus. She said affectionately, “na ma, mun phoola bikuni tate, tume nua asicha ta, seyithi lagi gote phoola neyiki jaa maa pakhaku, sabu dukha sunibe siye tora.” (transl: no daughter,i don’t mean to sell you flowers, you have come to this temple for the first time, take one flower to the goddess, she will listen to all your prayers) .

My cynical self refused to give-in and I said, “mausijadi maa sabu dukha sunante tebe tume phoola biku nathanta” (aunty if the goddess listened to everyone’s prayers, you wouldn’t be selling here flowers). I knew these are tactics in almost all Indian temples to get you to buy stuff. She broke into an easy laughter and said,

“arre, arre, Ahilya mausiphoolabikiba payin phoola bikeni …tu eyi phoola ne aau jaamaa ku deyi debu. ” (Ahilya doesn’t sell flowers for the sake of selling, take these flowers for free and give them to the deity) and she pushed a long garland of flowers into my hand. That’s how the name Ahilya struck me — I liked her name and the way she pronounced the name as Ahalaya in colloquial Odiya.

Being in a hurry and because of the heat I thrust the garland into my mother’s hand, impatiently went to the shrine and came back from within the temple after a brief sojourn. I sat by the shady courtyard watching the mango grooves gently swaying by the early evening warm breeze. The lady came back to me after some time and inquired whether I had presented the garland to the deity, and I absent-mindedly responded with a ‘yes’ (she gave a look of satisfaction). She didn’t seem to be affected or perturbed by the heat. I thought that the heat is their natural habitat, so what big deal. I handed a 10 rs note to her in lieu of her flowers. She kept the money in a knot of her saree pallu and sat there in front of me gazing my face. I was not very surprised because in rural Odisha if you have an urbane dress-up (jeans and tee types) you are quiet often stared at. I got a little uncomfortable with her gaze because her eyes seemed to have a lot of admiration as well. It was a strange look — she looked at me with immense compassion as if she had a great treasure and I was the poorer seeker asking for some money or some benediction from her and her deity. I decided to start a conversation with her.

I asked her about her family and where they stayed. She said she stays in a village a kilometer and a half from this temple and comes early morning, sweeps the temple premises, collects flowers, makes garlands, and sells them. Very proudly she announced to me, that the priest himself requested her to make these garlands because they are so loved by the deity that she fulfills the wishes of the devotees who buy them. I asked her how much she makes in a day from this business, and she happily said “jiye jaha dela mun niye…mula bhava karena” (transl: whoever gives me whatever I accept, I don’t bargain), Rs. 40-60 rupees and sometimes on festivals Rs. 100 per day for the bigger garlands. With a smile she added that she has two sons, and a husband who is suffering from Tuberculosis and might die. I was surprised! How can someone die in the 21st century from TB? ?

I informed her that the medicines for TB are free and available in all local hospitals. She nonchalantly said that they had to buy those medicines and that food itself was so expensive what will she feed a TB patient, because TB needs a lot of food. She informed me that the deity is very kind and takes care of her husband and her children and never lets them go hungry for a day. Whatever she earns in a day suffices to help her buy ration for that day. She also added as an information that very big ministers, devotees, and business men come from the city and buy her garlands. “They become richer, get their daughters/sons married, or their political issues solved when they buy my garlands, and it is so satisfying to see them happy” . She kept the conversation on for a very long time, talking to me as if she knew me for a very long time. I requested her to allow me to take a few pictures of her and she very happily willed and posed for the camera with her flower basket.

It was getting late and the time to leave was at hand. My family had finished saying their prayers, their wishes, and their demands to the deity. Ahilya walked with us to our car and bid us farewell saying, “Ma toh sabu iccha pura karantu…eyi ahilya mausi ku bhulibuni” (transl: may the mother fulfill all your wishes…don’t forget this aunt of yours). I was surprised by her warmth and her nonchalant innocence — why do we with all the available resources, riches and power lack that basic humane-ness? On retrospect I feel sad and guilty — am doing nothing extraordinary or humane. I too am selling a story like many others in this profession, for Iris. You may call it selfishness or cowardice.

We drove away from the temple, but I’ll never forget the charm, the smile and demeanor of Ahilya in my life….

The world has become a large dustbin where we use things for our convenience and dispose them without caring for safety or with a concern for this earth. This summer I got to spend nearly a month’s time in Odisha. There are a lot of changes in the state — some positive and some negative. There are now large well-maintained streets in Bhubaneswar and other places. The village roads under the Pradhan Mantri Gram Sadak Yojana are made of concrete and are often better than the city by-lanes. However, the suburbs of Bhubaneswar are extremely ill-maintained and the privilege of street-lights or a decent by-lane devoid of potholes is still a dream. Once monsoons arrive these streets can be the breeding ground of mosquitoes and other water borne diseases. In fact, recently I saw a news-piece on a regional news channel (OTV) regarding the large potholes right in front of the Fakir Mohan University in Balasore, where waste water remains deposited even in summers. Now, you can imagine its lot in the monsoons!

Roads or no roads, what is peculiar about not only Bhubaneswar but also all other places in Odisha is the lack of an awareness regarding the need for dustbins or dumping yards or waste-collecting vans. Though, there are waste collecting vans in Bhubaneswar that charge around Rs. 50 per residence in Sailashree Vihar, but the number of people who avail this facility is absolutely meager. Even well-to-do, educated citizens carry a notion that when they can take the waste basket and throw it near the open fields or besides the pavement or even in front of their large marble bungalows; where is the need for paying a waste-picking van? People who spend thousands of rupees for dresses, for weddings and for personal maintenance are incapable of paying Rs. 50 to the waste-picking vans! The lack of awareness in people as well as in the municipal bodies regarding the disposal of wastes is severe. People throw anything at any place without even caring to look back at it for a moment.

The condition of villages is no less precarious. Even though the streets in villages are made of concrete and appear really clean but you will not find a single community dustbin at any point. So is true of the cities like Bhubaneswar or Cuttack. If you go to Sailashree Vihar or any other suburb residential area you will not find a single dustbin for disposal of wastes. As a result, polythenes, papers, dirty bags, food wastes and other such toxic substances are found on the roads. Cows and Oxen come near these pavements and graze away these toxic polythene and other garbage and fall prey to several diseases.

There are a lot of pan eaters in Odisha and the way pan-thook gets deposited in the corners of hospitals and other public places is something which has to be really studied. You can find amazing patterns of red betel spit on government buildings, colleges, offices, medical colleges and even homes. The luxury of eating pan is such that people refuse to let the residue of their pan-eating charm fade from public memory. Thus, the red betel spit speak the history of tobacco and betel-nut flavor and give the legacy of Pan in Odisha. But, my contention is that why does the luxury of a chosen few has to become an inconvenience for many others?

I intend to bring to focus another point regarding this dumping business. These days, at a distance of every few yards there is an industry in Odisha. Some manufacture steel, iron ore, some red bricks, some coal, some synthetic, some sugar while others are into small-scale manufacturing business. If you go to Angul and Dhenkanal Districts you will find indiscriminate number of large and small scale industries. Odisha Govt. distributes license to these industries as if it is distributing sweets. When we were children, Dhenkanal was no less than a hill-station with a climate that many would envy. A rare kind of wind current would blow during the summers keeping the temperature at its optimum. But, gone are those days. If you come here now you will be welcomed with a relentless hot summer and malaria. The reason — not only global warming or global climate change but also climate change induced by the hazardous smoke and water disposed by industries in and around this place. The plight of Angul and Talcher, less said the better. I do not know if the weapon of RTI regarding pollution control and pollution testing has been used in these places as yet. Who issues these industries permits to start functioning? How many industries should be located in a certain place? What are the pollution control measures being carried out by these industries? These are some issues which the general public in this state still does not concern itself with. The lack of education mixed with the lack of awareness is partly responsible for the impending climatic dangers over this state. My personal opinion is that people believe industries are a boon because they provide employment and money and that’s where the story ends. The need to understand ecological concerns is neither different nor isolated from the importance of industrialization. I am confirmed that the number of people who will read this particular blog post from outside the state would far exceed the number of people reading it from within Odisha.

I gave one state as an example of this dumping business. I am not capable of explaining the position of other states because of a lack of first-hand experience. However, there is a commonsensical aspect which makes me generalize this plight of dumping — we all love to enjoy and we love to have the luxury of using things or producing things but when it comes to the settlement of the garbage or the waste-products our responsibility ends there. The proper disposal of wastes is something that one has to inculcate internally as well as through proper social conditioning. Garbage disposal should be a part of social responsibility as well as individual ethics. If we use a certain thing, it is also our responsibility to see to it that it is properly disposed so that others do not suffer the toxic by-products of that waste.

When the earth is struggling for its survival, when the entire global community is striving to generate awareness against pollution and global warming Odisha is one such state which is going through a topsy-turveyed change. This state which is famous for its natural resources, which is endowed with the bounty of natural heritage is going through a late industrialization that threatens to take away its beauty and charm.

There is a firm necessity of honesty, accountability and awareness to protect whatever nature has gifted….

It was around 11.20 pm when we reached Khapoli on a chilly December night. We were traveling by the 9pm Local from CST to Khapoli. I had never traveled out of Mumbai or even in Mumbai in a local train at that hour of the night. It hardly made any difference — trains were bustling with human beings at least up till Kalyan station and even a little later. I could not believe my eyes to see that so many people travel so late from offices to their homes in distant corners of Mumbai suburbs. In Odisha there is not much of a crowd after 9pm. The office-goers who come from smaller towns like Dhenkanal, Angul, Talcher, Khurda to work in offices at Cuttack or Bhubaneswar usually return by the 5: 15 pm local and reach their homes by 7.30-8.00pm.

I used to travel from Bhubaneswar to Angul/Dhenkanal every Saturday-Sunday and sometimes even on holidays in this particular local train for 7 years; first during Graduation and then during my University days in Post graduation and M.Phil. Either my parents or my uncles would be waiting to receive me from the station. Every time I came back home from the hostel on weekends, I would be received in a grand fashion. When grandpa was alive, he would come to pick me up or drop me while on his morning and evening walks to the Dhenkanal station. I would jump down from the boggy, hug him as if I had not seen him for ages (it might be even less than a week) and then happily chatter away about my friends/teachers in college or University till we reached home, where specially made delicious baingan bharta and mushroom deep fried with garlic and steaming hot ricewould be eagerly waiting for me. I think I lost my best friend when I lost him. Grandmom and my aunty sadly would lament on my health condition because of malnutrition in the hostel food 🙂 .

Probably, this nostalgia was the reason that when we were offered a “Special Paper” in PG English, I had enthusiastically opted for a course in “Professional Writing” and chose to write my dissertation on “The Life in Local Trains”. There were diary entires, interviews with commuters, history of the train, letters and statistics collected on the 5:15pm local train for the dissertation. In fact, at the peak of my data collection I had traveled almost everyday by that train to observe and record events and take snaps of various landmarks. I had a very strange, mysterious bonding with the Local trains, as if these trains gave a miniature version of my world.

All these memories of the past years had come drifting towards me when I saw a group of office-goers boarding from different stations, in one compartment on the CST-Khapoli Local. Probably they were using this one compartment for many years and were now friends or perhaps family. Interestingly, one of them carried a mouth organ, another a dafli and another a flute. While some of them sang some Marathi and Hindi numbers, the others’ played on these instruments or listened silently. I thought there was some special occasion and asked one of them sitting close to me that what was the reason for celebration. He replied with a smile; “nothing! we do this everyday! we celebrate everyday…we come from different stations and from different offices, but make it a point to meet in the train, share some joys or our troubles, sing, laugh and get down at our respective stoppages. This has happened for years now.” He grinned and the song : “hai apna dil toh awara na jane kis pe ayega” …wafted in the air. Everyone in the compartment was silent, listening intently to the songs; no one felt like talking…I suppose everyone had some or the other nostalgia to go back to.

These people specially reminded me of an event which I have documented in that dissertation on local trains.It’s the story of one particular gentleman who had traveled in the 5:15pm local from Bhubaneswar to Dhenkanal for 30 years of his service in the AG Office (Attorney General’s Office) in Master Canteen Bhubaneswar. He worked as a senior clerk there.On the day of his retirement from service, the entire compartment (he had boarded the same compartment for the last 30 years) and his fellow office goers had organized a grand farewell for him in the compartment itself. People sang, made speeches on the small tid-bits of their experiences with him, cried, hugged him and then saw him off with tears as he got down at Dhenkanal station on his final day from work. I was very young then to understand the realities of these emotions — because I had everything and everyone around me at that point of time.

But, of course the event had intrigued me and my imagination. I tried to locate his home in the town and went for an interview for the dissertation. He had told me during the interview that more than his family he valued the friends in the train. They shared all his day-to-day stories, gave valuable advice like his son’s job or a daughter’s wedding or official tussles. They had laughed, played cards, gossiped against their office colleagues, sometimes also fought, but most importantly had grown old together. He added that he will not miss office so much as much he would miss his commuting in the train. “Sadly I will not meet my fellow passengers any longer as I will not need to travel from this small town to Bhubaneswar anymore. My friends in the train have shown more patience and have listened to me more than my own family”... I saw his eyes moisten.

The picture of the old gentleman vividly came before my eyes in the CST-Khapoli local train after another 7 long years of my life. I realized seeing these people around me on the train, that there are certain human emotions which cut across narrow language, caste and cultural divides and time. When the politicians and even some theoreticians seek to divide my nation on the basis of caste and language politics, I still can see that the emotion which people have in Odisha is similar to that which they have in Maharastra or maybe elsewhere in the world — the emotional bond of one human being with another.

Last Thursday I heard on the phone that she died!! For a moment I was numb.

One generation was coming to its end…and with that generation a whole world of traditions, customs, stories, myths and legends slowly reach extinction. She came every morning to our doorsteps with her kula (winnowing fan) and sat there for hours singing, laughing and weaving small flower baskets with tidy, sharp bamboo pieces. No, Jambilo did not weave those for livelihood, but just for use in the temple in their basti.

I was always shy meeting people, hardly speaking to anyone, but this lady — she was fascinating. There was something typical in her which attracted me towards her — her lilting, melodious hummings. She hummed with a passion for the “mother-goddess” – “Durga maa”– she would click her tongue and postrate a thousand times before uttering that name. While weaving the baskets, she would sing in her mellifluous voice:

Oh Maa Tarini! (a form of the mother goddess) I weave these garlands for you With droplets from my eyes.Oh Maa Tarini! I sing these songs for youWith the rhythm of my heart…Oh Maa Tarini! What can I ask from you,Save, a dot of sindoor (vermilion) and a pair of sankha (bangles) in my dark hands.

I am sorry, I have not been able to reproduce the exact translation of these line from vernacular Odiya into English. But roughly, these were some of the lines that she sang while weaving her baskets. Whenever, I went to my grandparents’ place, Jambilo would come in the early morning to see me. As a child, I was mortally afraid of her…all the kids in that locality called her “pageli” (crazy). But eventually, she was one person whom I loved and respected from the core of my heart. There was a story about her that her husband had either died or left her since a long-long time. But no one ever dared remove her sankha-sindoora. She belonged to the Domcaste and lived in the dom sahi down the lane. Jambilo earned her living by sweeping the temple premises (jamadar) of the devi temple down the road. They gave her a few rupees and food twice daily. She did the job with a passion that cannot be described in words. She would not let any other person enter the temple at early dawn (including the priest) before she had sweeped the entire temple premise to her complete satisfaction.

The neatness in her dress up and the sweetness of her voice can put to shame any so called “upper caste” female. There was another thing peculiar about her, she always giggled — like a school girl, her face burst into a hundred wrinkles with the curve widening. I don’t remember of having seen her with sad or worried eyes ever. She laughed like a young bride, the pallu of her saree covering her face with every little giggle. I spent hours listening to those unheard melodies and to her stories. Jambilo was a treasure house of a thousand tales — of gods, of black magic, of people in her locality, and she would go on endlessly until someone in my family came to the verandah to call me back for lunch. Sometimes, when she got intensely involved in a tale, she would almost act that out for you. It happened very frequently when she went to the bazaar to watch a Pala, Daskathiya (these are some typical folk dance-drama forms, very popular in Odissa because of their rich mytical and legendary content) or a Danda (Danda is an extraordinary ritual in Odissa that is performed specifically in the month of April — chaitra as we say in the honour of the Devi. Danda as a dance form is a very difficult skill that requires extraordinary expertise). Jambilo would be in the front row in the crowd if you happened to come across these performances somewhere in the marketplace. And then, once she returned, she would dance the entire performance for you, with the exact dialogues that followed each little song piece. There would be no stopping her then! She would get really angry, if you dared to interrupt in her performance — I often wondered at her memory for having been able to remember every little piece that she ever watched.

Jambilo would be present at all weddings and mournings of every family of the locality. She would sing for the brides before they went for the early morning turmeric bath ; she would cry her heart out for the old men/women who passed away as if they were members of her own family. Did she ever ask for money? The strangest thing about that lady was that she never-ever would accept a pie from anyone around her. With a pride of the peacock, she would retort if you offered her money in lieu of one of her performances, “I have enough Maa (child) to feed me for the day. I don’t think of the evening. Durga Maa takes care of my wants”. But she would be always happy for one thing — if you gave her some bangles, a little vermilion and a saree and some rice and vegetables. Sometimes, if her whim possessed her, she would not accept them without giving you a basket or a kula in return. Every bride in the family would give her some of these things and get her blessings in return. Sometimes during Durga Puja, she would come to my grandmother or to my eldest uncle’s wife, “Bada bahu! (Eldest daughter-in-law) This time you give me a saree with red embroidery. I want to wear that for Asthami (one of the sacred days during Durga Pooja) .” And no one ever dared deny her a thing, for all her desires were modest!

Such was Jambilo then for us! Last time when I went home, she came again to see me. I sat devotedly near her for sometime, but now she treated me with a respect which I was uncomfortable with. I was an alien from the big city who came for a few days to spend time during vacation. She told mother humbly but clicked her tongue and widened her eyes, “Maa (daughter in this context) is now a big babuin the city! She lives beyond seven oceans…do they wear sarees there?” I smiled and said “yes they do just as you do”. She was delighted for a moment and clapped her hands child-like and added, “can you get me a saree with golden borders from that place”…I nodded in affirmation.

I never could give that saree to her…

P.S: I exist here in the midst of academic debates on caste, non-caste and anti-caste…. But people like Jambilo are also a reality of the society from which I come. They are somewhere caught in between these worlds.

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